Ring of the Fallen
by roxbury
Summary: Using a ring of unknown origin, Harry is catapulted to a time where nobody knows his name. When? Where? Will he ever return to his proper tense? Or will he even want to? Pairing TBD. TimeTravel!Harry.
1. Drinking Games with Tonks

I have no idea why I'm writing this. It just popped into my head, and now to get it out, I'm going to type it out.

"speech"  
_thought_  
"_spellwork_"  
"**speech with emphasis**"  
:Parseltongue:

* * *

It was a long drive back to Number Four, Privet Drive in the warm summer, but Harry Potter felt quite chilly anyway. It had almost been a week since Sirius had disappeared through the Veil, and Harry had still not gotten over the fact that one of his last two lifelines to his parents was dead. The inside of the silver sedan was very neat, and not a speck of dust fouled the interior of the vehicle. Harry watched trees and farms go by waiting for the eventual Hell he knew was coming to begin. Even though the clock was counting normally, Harry could not help but feel as though time were standing still, as it always did with the Dursleys. Time flies when you're having fun, and the Dursleys were anything but fun. Harry did the same thing he did on the train; watching foliage go by. It's not like his Uncle would strike up a conversation about Hogwarts. In fact, "How was school?" was never said to Harry, for obvious reasons. The Dursleys wanted no part of the business that was magic, unless they could get something out of it. 

After an eternity of sitting and doing nothing, the car pulled up to the curb and stopped. The so far quiet Uncle Vernon turned slowly back to face Harry, wearing a mask of neutrality.

"Here we are, boy," he said without a trace of malice. "Get your rubbish, and get out of the car." Very confused, Harry complied. It was uncommon to see the lack of aggresiveness from his uncle, but Harry raised no argument. What was the point? From the boot of the car to the front door of the house, Harry hauled, heaved, dragged, carried and kicked his trunk into the house. He was almost to the cupboard when Uncle Vernon roared at him. "What do you think you're doing? Get that nonsense into your room, and out of my sight!" Utterly confused, but not wanting to fight over seemingly nothing, Harry continued to transport his trunk into the smallest bedroom, and closed the door.

_What is he doing?_ Harry thought, puzzled. _He never lets me keep my belongings in the bedroom…_ For a moment, Harry mulled over the idea that his relatives were under the Imperius Curse. Most likely the Death Eaters would get it wrong, as they would be ordered to treat him nicely. A call emanating from downstairs interrupting his fantasies about pleasant Dursleys.

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" Vernon hollered.

"Nope, no Imperius Curse," Harry sighed, and quickly went downstairs to find out what Vernon wanted. He kept his head averted, but answered. "Yes, Uncle?"

"What do you mean 'Yes, Uncle'? Open your eyes!" Harry looked up and saw a woman with bright blue eyes, wearing a smile which didn't meet the cobalt orbs. Her blonde hair was in a very familiar taught bun, one Professor McGonagall always wore. She looked very professional. Harry frowned.

"Who's this, Uncle?" he said dully.

"Hello, I'm Natalie Thalwell. A relative of yours died recently, and I have been asked to talk to you about him by your uncle. I'm a psychiatrist." Harry was shocked.

"Uncle Vernon?"

"No, he called himself Remus. Odd name, really." Harry was grateful to his friend, but did he really need a psychiatrist?

"I'm alright, I don't need to talk about it. I just need to think for a bit."

"I've already been paid for, so if that's the issue…" At this, Vernon gestured for the woman to join them in the house.

"Well," he said loudly. "I do think you need a psychiatrist." He pulled Harry closer. "One of your freak friends must have done this for you, so I'm going to take advantage of their stupid generosity. And if you tell her a bit about your freakishness, you'll be wishing you'd never have discovered it."

Uncle Vernon then pulled back and spoke to Natalie. "Good."

"Do you have somewhere private to talk?" asked Natalie patronizingly.

If you follow the – er, Harry here, he'll show you up to his room." Harry climbed back up the stairs, and went into his room. The psychiatrist followed him inside, quickly closed the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was confused.

"Bloody wanker – calling you 'boy' all the bloody time," she said. Harry furrowed his brow, and the woman smiled.

"Harry, I'm hurt," she said suddenly. "You don't remember little old me." Harry shook his head.

"No," he said truthfully. "Should I?" A look of intense concentration appeared on her face as blonde melted into pink, blue was tinged a bit red to become pink, and a goofy grin appeared on her face. Harry breathed a sigh of similar relief.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said grinning. "Awww, don't tell me you were fooled too," she said, faking disappointment, as she removed the bun from her hair. Harry nodded. Tonks shook her head.

"I even kept the same initials, Harry. Surely you don't need Hermione around all the time." Harry let a faint smile slip out. "See, you can smile, even though..." Her voice cracked, and she sobered up, the goofiness and likability that she carried around drowning in the sorrow. Harry frowned too, and Tonks saw this.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry."

"What for?" he asked bitterly. "You knew him better than I did, and I killed him. You should be mad at me, or something." At this Tonks frowned.

"Why do you say you killed him?" Tonks asked.

"Well, I'm the one that went into the Department of Mysteries, I'm the one who made the Order come after me, and that includes Sirius."

"Were you the one casting the curse that pushed him through the Veil?"

"No, but –"

"So, Dumbledore killed Sirius."

"What?" Harry asked wildly.

"Well, Dumbledore let you come go to Hogwarts this year, so using your logic, he's at fault. Maybe it's Hagrid's fault, 'cause he introduced you to magic. Or better yet, it's your parent's fault. They had you, after all."

"No!" he said indignantly.

"There you have it," Tonks said soothingly. "You didn't kill him, and no one should be mad at you." Harry sat back and thought about this. After a long moment, he smiled, and one of many weights had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Good," Tonks said. "Now that the self-pity bit's over, we can get onto the fun part of remembering Sirius."

"Fun?" Harry asked doubtfully.

"Oh, yes," Tonks said with a grin. She pulled a bottle from her pocket. It was large, maybe a litre, and very orange. The contents splashed against the inside of the bottle. A label came into view: _Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey_ "Ever heard of a wake?" She waved her wand and conjured two glasses. She offered the bottle to Harry. "Want to do the honours?" Harry accepted the offered bottle, and twisted the top ever so slightly. A plume of smoke blasted from the bottle, and caught Harry in the face. He began to cough, and Tonks laughed.

"They're not exactly honours," she pointed out belatedly. Taking the bottle back, she finished opening the orange container without further incident, and poured the golden liquid into the glasses.

"Isn't this illegal, Tonks?" Harry asked after he finished clearing his lungs.

"Yes, I'm very sure it is." She offered him a glass, and Harry took it. They both raised their glasses.

"To Sirius," Tonks said. "The worst possible role model in the world." Harry grinned.

"To Sirius," Harry agreed. They tossed back their drinks. The liquid was warm, Harry noted, and burnt his throat going down. He liked the feeling, he noted.

"Are we as of yet drunk enough to share stupid stories?" Tonks asked.

"Stories?" Harry asked.

"You know," Tonks said. "Anytime Sirius was around, you got enough for a story."

"Not during third year," Harry muttered. "Anyway, we're supposed to be smashed after one drink?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Well," she said. "this is the good stuff, and it's old too. But you're obviously not feeling it yet." She took another drink, and breathed out in satisfaction. Harry decided to have another go at the stuff too.

"Well, I'll start, then," Tonks said suddenly. "Back during my 8th birthday, Sirius brought a couple people to my birthday party. You might know them. I was told to call them Uncle James and Harry. It was you and your dad. Anyway, my dad introduced me to the pair of you as _Nymphadora._" She wrinkled her nose. "So I got to hold the baby for a bit while your dad and Sirius went off to do something. You looked me right in the eyes, and you said 'Nim-fedora', right when Da's walking by." She began to laugh. "When your dad comes back, Da tells him what happened, and he's really cheesed, 'cause that was supposedly your first word." She laughed harder. "I only let you off the hook 'cos you were but a baby."

"How old was I?" asked a softly laughing Harry.

"You were one. It was about a week before you-know-what happened." That sucked all the humour and happiness that had just so recently settled in. Harry was still smiling, but it had stopped being heartfelt. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought _that_ up. My clumsiness is only outdone by my big mouth."

"It's alright, Tonks." Both Tonks and Harry felt it was time to take another big drink. Tonks poured the pair of them another cup.

"Last August," Harry began, "Sirius takes me into Hogsmeade under glamours for a belated birthday party present. I do my shopping and all that, and we stop into the Three Broomsticks. Sirius goes up to Madam Rosmerta, and asks for a bottle of Firewhisky and a bit of Butterbeer for me. By the time his Firewhisky's all gone, he pissed out of his gord and trying to tell everyone that he's Sirius Black, noted murderer and all that. No one believes him, 'cos he reeks of Firewhisky." Harry started laughing.

"He didn't!" Tonks exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah. So we get kicked out onto the street where he's raving and bragging when these two Aurors come by on patrol. Luckily, one's Kingsley, but the other's some brute named Trenton. Kingsley looks at me, and figures out that it really is Sirius, but this Trenton plays along, and says he's Peter Pettigrew. Sirius hears this, and starts going after him, muttering about how he's going to pay and all that. So Sirius is chasing an Auror around, and Kingsley and me are just standing there."

"I've got to ask Shack about this," Tonks said laughing.

"Trenton had finally had enough with Sirius' antics, and the idiot thinks that _Finite_ will sober him up. So he casts _Finite_ on him, and there stands Sirius Black, completely smashed, with two Aurors standing right there. Kingsley quickly Obliviates him, and gives me a Portkey, telling me to get the idiot home." Tonks laughed harder than she's done all night, and even Harry is emitting some alcohol-induced giggles.

A few hours later, the room had dissolved into complete hilarity. Their stories no longer entailed Sirius Black, just general funny experiences they both had had. And, they were mildy drunk, as two empty bottles littered a conjured table, while a third was currently being depleted. Tonks had collapsed onto the mattress that served as Harry's bed while Harry stood giggling.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes, Harry," she managed to get out. "Hold that thought." She morphed back into the proud, professional form she held when she entered the house.

"Hey Tonks, is that body based on anything?" Harry asked as she fixed her hair. Tonks smirked dementedly.

"Hideous, isn't it, Harry?" she said. "It's my base form, my true body." She shook her head. "I hate it, but it has its uses sometimes."

"No," he said, surprised. "It's actually quite beautiful."

"You're crazy," Tonks said pessimistically. "It's repulsive." Harry leaned in and kissed her. To Harry, her lips were velvety perfection, as his touched them. He found himself lost, not knowing what to do, and after a long moment, he broke the kiss and pulled away. Tonks slowly opened her eyes again and looked at him.

"You're sweet, you really are, but we're both pissed," she said awkwardly. "I should go." She disappeared down the stairs, and he heard her speaking with Uncle Vernon. Then he let her out, and walked up the stairs. Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over the conjured table and liquor bottles. Uncle Vernon barged in.

"The psychiatrist said you are not to be disturbed," he said.

"Gee, thanks," Harry muttered under his breath. An unusual moment of clarity came about for Harry. _Then, why the Hell are you telling me this? You haven't though you're disturbing me now?_"I can smell your freakishness, boy. You had better have a shower tomorrow." Uncle Vernon glowered at him and as quickly as he had come in, Uncle Vernon left. Harry was alone. Again. He sighed, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.

Hours later, he woke up uncertainly with a throbbing head. He winced, this being his first experience with a hangover. He managed to open his eyes enough to notice a sky blue potion sitting on what served as his end table. It was covered by a note written in pink ink. Not particularly caring what it said, Harry downed the potion in one shot, and swallowed.

"Euuargh," he muttered. "Tastes horrid." His vision cleared up, and his headache faded to a dull throb, something rarely noticed due to many 'scar alarms'. He struggled out of the sheets and walked over to his trunk, giving it a swift kick. The lid popped open upon receipt of the abuse. Harry dived in and rummaged through it, seeing dirty potion vials, old tomes from years gone by and his dirty robes. He pawed these out of the way, until he found some robes, blood encrusted and burnt. These were the ones that he wore when Sirius died, he noted sorrowfully, as well as his remaining time at Hogwarts. The Map was stashed in the inside breast pocket.

He decided to put them on for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on. After putting the robes on, he jammed his hands in the large outside pockets of the robes, and found something cold and metallic in there, even though the pocket felt empty. He emptied the pocket, and found many clusters of lint, a very dirty biscuit, and a metallic bracelet of some sort. He glanced at the biscuit, noting the presence of mould. He chucked it in the bin, knowing that Dudley would dig it out and eat it at some point. Examining the bracelet, he found a small engraving on the inside. It was a circular symbol, containing an intricate design of spirals, lines and swirls. He gazed at it for a moment, and it didn't seem to be any harm, so he put it on. Feeling more comfortable, he sat down on his bed.

He glanced at the nothingness where the conjured table last stood. He yanked the cloak off of it, hearing empty bottles fall to the carpeted floor. He grabbed a partially filled bottle, and took a swig of the contents. His mind drifted away, thinking of his parents and Sirius. He closed his eyes. _I wonder what 1976 was like for Mum and Dad and Sirius. _

Suddenly, he heard something; an eerie noise he couldn't quite identify. He thought as hard as he could, but it was to no avail. Panicking, he opened his eyes, but saw nothing but a bluish haze. Harry could think no more as everything went black.

* * *

Yes, yes, it's the old 'take a trip through time and space and meet your parents' routine. The routine is rarely finished by most authors, and I plan to be one of those who actually finishes the damned thing. I'm kind of lost with Repeating Yourself, I'm trying to think of an appropriate prank to pull on Snape. I'm also thinking of starting a Yahoo! Group for no good reason. Anywho, please -read, review, return. 


	2. Who, When and How

Thus begins Chapter Two of the epic saga... or more appropriately: here's Chapter 2 of my story, still as of yet "Unnamed".

* * *

Harry awoke very uncomfortably. His head wasn't pounding as hard as it did hours after getting smashed with Tonks, but that was neither here nor there, as he discovered the reason he was uncomfortable were the ropes that bound him tightly to the chair. _Wait – ropes? Tied to a chair? _

"So, you're awake, are you boy?" An unfamiliar voice rang out. Masculine, proud, angry, it sounded like Uncle Vernon for a moment, but the pitch was wrong. It was deeper, more forceful. Harry slowly opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"He looks like Potter," said a voice from behind him. "He'd want to sneak into my room."

"What kind of freak would ever love **you**," said a girl that looked strangely familiar. "He has nice eyes, though. Look really familiar, they do."

"Wos goin' on," asked Harry in a daze.

"You're breaking and entering, sir," said the man again. "And I have half a mind to notify the police." _Bloody Hell_, Harry thought, taking a page from Ron's book of curses and other vulgarities. _Muggles._

"Where am I?" Harry asked.

"You are on private property, and I ask you to leave at once!"

"Er – I'm tied to a chair," Harry noted. "Otherwise I would gladly leave and get my bearings." The man blushed for a second.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"Harry. Harry – er, Porter." _Wonderful cover, you idiot,_ Harry scolded himself.

"Porter? Not Potter?" asked the girl behind him. He had a distinctly bad feeling about this…

"Why are you dressed like **that**?" asked the brunette next to him. Unfortunately, the alcohol was still effecting him. He had a hard time thinking of quick answer. "You're one of them, aren't you? A freak?" She looked disgustedly at Harry, as her father frisked him, removing his wand, and handing it to the daughter behind him. _They know about wands? I thought they were Muggles? _Harry thought, confused.

"Porter, not Potter. I don't suppose you'd untie me?" Harry asked.

"Not quite yet," said the man. "I would like to know why you suddenly appeared in my daughter's bedroom, hmm? Saw something you liked, and thought you'd take it, did you, young man?"

"What?" Harry asked wildly. "No! I don't know what happened. I just sort of… blanked… out." As he was speaking, Harry just realized how feeble his defense sounded. The girl behind him spoke up.

"I don't think he was even supposed to be here, Da." _You're right about that, girl_, Harry thought glumly.

"You're right about that, love," said the father.

"That's not what I meant. I meant maybe it was an accident?"

"Maybe," agreed her father.

"Maybe we should let him go."

"What?" the brunette screeched. "No! He might rape us and kill us!"

"I don't think he's a Death Eater, sister dear. And I've got his wand, Da, so we needn't worry about a thing."

"All right, all right," the father said yielding, and he untied the rope. Harry immediately rubbed his wrists.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "I don't suppose you could instruct me on how to return to Privet Drive?"

"You're on Privet Drive, you stupid freak," said the girl in front of him rudely. More and more, she sounded like Aunt Petunia. She resembled her, too, the same hair and eye colour, but that's where the similarities ended. The girl in front of him was young, with a reasonably lengthed neck, unlike the hose that his aunt had. In addition, the horsy features of his aunt were not present on her. The man standing beside her had flaming red hair and deep brown eyes. He was dressed in a navy cardigan and khakis, while the visible daughter was in a nightgown, her arms crossed. This however, increased her bust size, and unfortunately for Harry, the mental image of breasts belonging to his equine-faced aunt was neither pleasant nor welcome.

"So what **are **you doing here?" the man asked harshly.

"Er-" Harry scanned his brain for possible excuses. After all, visits from the police or the Aurors didn't seem very fun. "Apparition accident. I was practicing, and I guess I overshot my destination by a few blocks."

"So your unconscious appearance in my daughter's bedroom was purely accidental."

"Yes, sir. During Apparition, you're supposed to stay somewhat conscious." His grandfather grinned.

"It's good to know you have a sense of humour, at least."

"Fine, fine, now get out! We don't need your lot around here, you bloody freak!"

"Now, now, love," the father said soothingly. "Please behave. He certainly seems to be nice enough." He checked his pockets, and realized that everything that was supposed to be there was there, save his wand. The offending item was handed to him from behind. Harry turned smiling.

"Thank you, Miss –" he stopped speaking mid-sentence and his smile vanished. A beautiful girl with red hair and eyes that were mirror images of his own was still holding the wand out. It couldn't be, could it? Luckily he didn't lose his composure.

"Evans," she said. "Lily Evans. That uncouth **thing**," she gestured towards her sister, "is my sister Petunia. And of course, my Da." Harry was stunned. It was his bloody mother… and she looked very good in that pink nightie. Petunia didn't look half bad either – Harry had to mentally slap himself. _This is your mother and your aunt for Merlin's sake! _The father - Harry's newly discovered grandfather - spoke.

"You won't hurt us, will you?"

Harry decided his grandfather was very suspicious. But then again, it's very rude to appear in someone else's bedroom, even though it's your own, or will be, using correct tenses. Harry accepted his wand from Lily.

"Certainly not," said Harry, jamming the wand into his pocket.

_Thank God the interrogation's over,_ Harry thought.

"At least I'm in the right neighbourhood. This is near 40 Privet Drive, Launceston, right, sir?" _Launceston is where that cow 'Aunt' Marge lives,_ Harry thought vaguely,_ and this way, they won't think I have relatives or something around here._ At this, Harry's grandfather winced.

"Actually, this is 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging." Harry feigned ignorance.

"Little Whinging?" he asked.

"The outskirts of Surrey."

"Never mind a few blocks, I overshot by a good hundred fifty miles, then." Lily gasped.

"Blind Apparition?" she asked in awe.

"Not exactly. I've been to my aunt's house before, but I couldn't properly focus on my destination." Lily shook her head disapprovingly. "How long was I out?"

"About an hour and a half," said Lily.

"I'm sorry for intruding, and I should go. I need to get back." Harry's grandfather shook his head.

"Nonsense. If you hadn't noticed from my daughters' appearances, it's about nine at night. You can leave again tomorrow, but you should stay here."

"Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Petunia whined. "We don't need another one of **them** here!"

"I've already asked nicely, Petunia. Behave yourself," Harry's grandfather chided. Petunia scowled.

"I don't mean to impose," Harry said weakly, but he was quickly overruled.

"You won't be," said Harry's grandfather firmly. "And for the duration of your stay, please feel free to call me Albert."

"Harry." Petunia 's scowl deepened.

"I've always liked the name Harry," blurted out Lily. _Well, you did name me,_ Harry thought cheekily.

"So, Harry," said Albert. "You can sleep on the couch, and don't worry about a thing."

"I'll pay," Harry offered, but Albert waved it off.

"Worry not, my good man," he said. _Quite a change in his tune,_ thought Harry. "I'll go and fetch some blankets for you." He climbed the stairs.

"Daddy!" Petunia whined. "We are not some hostel for freaks like them!" Lily turned away. Harry guessed Petunia's words had cut her deeply. Petunia chased after her father, and Lily ran up to her room, sobbing. Harry wanted to do something for her, but he was a complete stranger in her eyes. This was, Harry observed, a good opportunity to find out what his parents and their friends were really like. _Was Dad really the bully Snape's memory made him out to be? Was Snape, God forbid, nice?_ Harry wondered. The footsteps on the stairway alerted him to the prescence of someone. Harry looked up to see the scowling face of Albert Evans.

"Those two won't ever stop fighting," he complained. "Will they never realize that they're stuck with each other for life? Sorry for rambling on about them. Here's a blanket."

"Thank you for your hospitality, sir," said Harry. The man smiled.

"You know, I think you could convince Petunia that not all wizards and witches are bad," pondered Albert aloud. Harry suppressed a wince. _I doubt that very much._

"You're sure you trust me enough?" Harry asked.

"Sure. You seem like an honest man, and there's something about you… I can't put my finger on it. But I trust you. Oh, and I have a gun." Harry paled upon learning this latest tidbit of information. "I'm joking, lad." He smiled, and walked toward the staircase.

As his grandfather turned the lights out, Harry lay on the couch staring at the familiar ceiling. Though it was dark, the mysterious bracelet shone with an inner light on his wrist. He summed up the day's events mentally.

_Okay, so:  
A. Come home from Hogwarts, unusually quiet Dursleys.  
B. Tonks - the very attractive Tonks - gets smashed with me.  
C. I'm thrown back in time, presumably by this weird bracelet I found in my pocket one summers' evening. _

Oh, and I have issues, seeing how I'm thinking of both my dead mother and dysfunctional aunt as 'attractive'.

_Lovely._

_And where's my grandmother? _

He lay in the dark for the rest of the night, one thought occupying his mind, refusing to let him rest:  
_Now, how exactly am I supposed to get home?_

* * *

And there you have it. 


	3. Morning After: Not Just a Pill Anymore

Harry came to in the living room. He vaguely wondered what he was doing in the living room, of all places, but he remembered getting drunk with Tonks, and assumed his time travelling was just a dream. Content to not have Voldemort-oriented dreams for once, he walked into the kitchen. The Dursleys would be wanting breakfast soon. He started up the stove, and cracked some eggs. The stove looked kinda funny, but Harry shrugged it off. Maybe Vernon got a new one during the ten months he had been away. He finished frying the eggs and went on to the bacon he knew Vernon would want. After he had finished those, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Don't bother yelling at me," he scowled. "Your breakfast is done. I'm going back to my room without taking any, okay?" He waited for a response, but did not hear one. He turned to face his relatives and gasped. There was some unknown woman in her nightgown, gaping at him. She had flowing blonde hair, reminiscent of Fleur Delacour, and green eyes, oddly similar to his own, except her eyes were wide in shock. _I didn't know Vernon had a mistress... very odd, and very disturbing..._ _especially since she's so pretty._ She shrieked in alarm. He heard footsteps racing down the steps, and the figure rushing down to see what the kerfuffle was, was neither Vernon, Petunia, nor Dudley. It was Charles - his grandfather. So it wasn't just a wonderful dream after all. Charles tried to calm his wife - Harry's grandmother - down.

"It's alright, love," he said soothingly. "This is the young man from last night, remember?" She looked at him as if to say, 'I'm not stupid, you twit'.

"It's not that, Charles," she said. She had a melodic voice, a pleasant cross between Luna's airy tones and Tonks' Cockney. "He was expecting his relatives... he said he didn't take any food, as if he wasn't allowed, he made breakfast as if it were expected of him... _he said it as if they didn't allow him food!_" Charles looked at Harry.

"Is this true?" Harry blushed, not wanting to appear weak in front of anyone.

"Yes," he murmured. Charles looked furious.

"What kind of people are your parents?"

"The dead kind, actually." Charles blinked.

"Then who do you live with?"

"My aunt, er - Marjorie," Harry suppressed a shudder. "and my uncle, uh - Vernon." He didn't see why he shouldn't say Vernon; after all, Petunia wasn't married to him... yet.

" Vernon," Harry's grandmother snarled. "He sounds like that SOB Petunia's been dating." _Oops..._

"Now, now, Liz," Charles said.

"Sorry, dearie," said Liz.

Charles looked between the two of them. "Oh, Liz, this is Harry. Harry, my wife, Elizabeth."

"Sorry about the fright, ma'am," Harry said apologetically.

"Quite alright, young chap. Thank you for making breakfast." The trio ate in peace until the Evans sisters descended. Lily smiled at Harry, who returned it, but Petunia scowled at them both.

"The freaks shouldn't be eating normal food," she said as she took a piece of bacon. She took a bite and swallowed. "Thank you, Da," she said sweetly.

Charles grinned. "Actually, it was Harry here who made the bacon, isn't that right?"

"Yes," agreed Liz. Petunia paled.

"He could have done _things_ to the bacon!" Harry took his chance.

"And what if I did do _things _to the bacon?" Harry asked rhetorically. Petunia's gaze flickered between her parents in fear. Lily smirked.

"That's disgusting," she said. "It sounds like -"

"Lily." Charles looked at her for a long moment. _Fantastic,_ Harry thought. _Me mum's a pervert. _

"Thank you, Lily," Liz said disgustedly, pushing back her plate.

"Just joking, Mum, Da. You know that."

"But it's not appropriate discussion for the breakfast table. And we have company..." Lily flushed red.

"Oh," she said meekly. "Sorry."

Harry blushed too. "Uh - that's fine." stood up from the table.

Liz turned to Harry. "What will you do now?" she asked.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "I guess I'll just go to the Leaky Cauldron, or something. I don't want to impose, or anything."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Liz and Charles simultaneously. "Impose... don't be daft, boy!"

Harry smirked. "And just last night you had me pegged as a rapist." Charles had the decency to be apologetic.

"I'm so sorry about that..." he said quickly, but Harry waved off the apology unconcernedly.

"A reasonable reaction, to be sure. An invader, mysteriously -"

"_freakishly,_" Petunia interrupted nastily. Harry blinked, Liz looked aghast, and Lily visibly desired to hex the Hell out of Petunia.

"Er, yes, anyway, appearing in your daughter's room..." Harry trailed off, the tension begging to be cut by a knife. Lily did the honours.

"Maybe you should have done _things_ to the bacon," she muttered grinning. Hands smacked their owner's respective foreheads loudly, and the adult owners of those hands groaned.

- - - - -

Harry sat utop the hill at the local park, his only refuge from the horrors of the Dursleys. The Evans' weren't bad, they were brill. But Harry wanted some time alone to ponder. But one Lily Evans seemed to want to deny him the luxury of solitude, as she climbed the hill, and collapsed on the grass next to him.

"Hi," she said. "What are you doing to my park?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't we getting a bit familiar? I mean, just yesterday, I was a peeping Tom, and now, I'm your best friend."

"Dream on, peeping Porter," Lily laughed. "But you're a nice bloke, and you've got the most in common with me 'round here, so, ya know... so what'cha up to?"

"Thinking," Harry said.

"Amazing!" announced Lily. "You look like a Potter, but you can think!"

"Who's this Potter you're going on about?" Harry asked innocently.

"He's this prat who thinks he's Merlin's gift to women," Lily said, her eyes darkening. "He's arrogant, and daft, and show-offy, and I don't like him one bit. But I don't want to talk about him. What about you, where do you go to school?"

"I go to Beauxbatons," Harry lied uneasily. He just realised he had backed himself into a corner; he knew nothing about Beauxbatons, save for the carriage and Madame Maxime. "But I wanted to go to Hogwarts, just like my parents did.

"Really?" Lily asked interestedly. "What's Beauxbatons like?" _Oh, bugger,_ thought Harry. His brain was going a mile a minute, trying to think of what he could say.

"Well," he shrugged. "It's just the same as Hogwarts, I s'pose. You've got all the standard classes like Charms, and Defense. Headmistress is nice, though. Madame Maxime. Met her on my first day; she had to give me a translation stone."

"Translation stone?" Lily asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you don't hear me speaking French, do you? All it is, is a palm-sized smooth stone with a special rune on it. Unfortunately, the translation stones are only capable of translating between two different languages. So if some bloke showed up from Spain or something like that, I couldn't understand a word he'd be saying."

"I wonder if other countries have translation stones," Lily said. Harry shrugged again.

"Don't ask me; I'm not exactly worldly. All we've got is the school - there's no little village like Hogsmeade nearby."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "How'd you know about Hogsmeade?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Marjorie and Uncle Vernon are magic, right?" Inwardly, he laughed at the irony of the pair of magic hater being described as magical. "They took me up there for my cousin's birthday when they couldn't find a minder. And that was about it. They'd have prolly liked to have pushed me 'round in a pram so I couldn't actually see anything."

"Terrible people, your relatives," Lily said sullenly. Harry gave her a small smile.

"Not all of them, I'm sure. Mum and Dad must have been a decent pair of folks for Vernon and Marge to hate them so much, yeah?"

Lily leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry went rigid in shock, and began to gape. Lily giggled - _giggled?_ "That's hoping that you never have to go back again. Oh, Mum told me to tell you that you're welcome to stay at our house, if you want. Supper's at six sharp. Except when it's late. And we're watchin' the match tonight. It's Manchester U against Reading. In my opinion, footbal's better than Quidditch anyway." She ran back down the hill, and Harry continued to sit and stare at the sky.

Such a peaceful time, and a peaceful place. Harry wasn't so sure he wanted to go back, now. Sure, he'd miss Tonks and Ron and Hermione and everyone, but here... this was almost heaven. This was living, being able to walk down a street and have no one know your name. And Harry wanted it to last forever.

And that's when _it _happened.

* * *

My chapters aren't very big, are they? This one was only around 1500 words. I'll try to work on that a bit. Don't forget to review, please. They're like cookies; too many and I get fat, too few, and I get thin, and rail-like.


End file.
